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letter

Hold Up!
Just received a letter accusing me of being racist.
Hmmmm, sounds like we are making assumptions with no real basis.
You would be wrong all around,
because what I say you may not be ready to face it.
Read it thoroughly, it’s beyond race Miss.
My message of pride and empowerment is not pro-blackness.
You’re getting it mixed up with matter of fact-ness.
Me being racist is like spiting my face by cutting off my nose.
My chief editor is white, didn’t you know?
Isis Rain, a real soul sister understanding the plight.
The movement see’s no color; black, brown, red, yellow or white.
FYI, I love people of all colors. I don’t care, they can be purple or gray.
Hey, Joey tell your moms and brother I said what’s up! That’s my white homie from VA.
And let’s not forget my white ex-girlfriends, yeah some of them almost got me killed.
Father and brother Prejudice; hello Tiffany Wells in Lewisville.
My partner from the world, Joe Duffer a.k.a Jon B.
A white man I broke bread with, hmmmm… I guess you really don’t know me.
Just because I may be insolent, tactless, brazen or brash;
don’t misinterpret what I say, present or past.
I know, I know… on racial topics, I get a bit aggressive.
I’m atypical in my writing, not preaching hate, but I must remain progressive.
Humanity is what I love, that means ALL people.
I feel we are of one make, everyone is equal.
Though many of us were told and taught things
that were morally and socially wrong. It could’ve been through our
parents, friends, T.V., media, books and even through songs.
I couldn’t care less about the color of any person’s skin.
Deep down, whether you admit it nor not, we are all akin.
But, me being a racist just tickles me pink.
That’s a new one on me, something I hate to think.
Although you feel I am, I must be saying something right.
Otherwise most of my supporters and followers wouldn’t be white…

I wait now…
Every day, every evening for your letter.
Reminiscing…
Your voice, your smile, your hand, your eyes.
Waiting for the officer to say;
“Payne, you have mail to read.”
to ruminate, to laugh, to think…
to contemplate my next reply
but the guard passes my cell.
Now, I’m aching, lonely, waiting, hoping
to hear anything; a joke, a song
an old story about the past.
I wait…
Then, the guard comes back and says,
“Payne, they have you in the wrong cell.”
A letter…
your scent, your smell,
your words at last.
I smile, elated; my day has begun…